“Belike they have their reasons. Friendship. A love of notoriety, mayhap. Young Glendenning I fancy would be pleased to turn our attention from his questionable loyalties. And as for that devil, Falcon! Stap me—what insolence! One might think someone of his background—” He made an impatient gesture and did not finish the sentence.
After a while, the major asked, “Do you mean to warn Lord Collington, sir?”
“I fancy I should. But ’twould surely ruin young Rossiter’s chance for happiness. And the boy has been put through sufficient hell.”
“True. But… that lovely lady, sir…!”
They looked at each other, both faces troubled.
General Underhill said heavily, “Damme, but war can be a wretched business, Steve.”
“It can indeed, sir!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Raindrops pattered softly against the windows of the luxurious carriage that splashed along the Dover road. Kissing the top of the curly head which nestled just below his chin, Gideon murmured, “Are you disappointed, love, that it must rain on our bridal day?”
Naomi leaned her head back against his shoulder and smiled up at him. “Nothing could disappoint me this afternoon. I am, at long last, Mrs. Gideon Rossiter.”
He bent to kiss her rosy lips. “My father judged it a proper scramblement of a ceremony.”
She chuckled. “Rushed into by special licence and with only two weeks’ notice. Dreadful!”
“Two weeks, indeed! I have waited and yearned for you these past six years at the least, Mrs. Rossiter, and feared this day would never dawn! For which I have no one to blame but myself. And I do not ask that you give up your title, dearest girl.”
“I know,” she said tenderly. “But ’tis what I wish. That chapter of my existence is closed. The best part of my life begins now—as your wife.”
She was kissed again, of course, and then they were quiet for a long while; the comfortable quiet of belonging. Holding her, loving her with all his heart, he yet was conscious of the shadow that lay over them. How would she feel if she knew what he had told General Underhill? How would she feel if she knew that the earl was responsible for all his father’s misery? Would she be enraged if she guessed how, in striving to protect her from more grief, her new husband also deceived her?
“It was so kind of Uncle Bertram to act for my father,” murmured Naomi. “Is a nice old gentleman, do you not think?”
“He gave the bride to me. How could I not think him a prince of uncles?”
“I wonder,” she said, with a small sigh, “whether I will ever again see Papa.”
Gideon started. “Why should you doubt it?”
She sat up straighter, pulled away, then turned to face him, her lovely face grave. She had dreaded this moment and now that it was here, her heart was thundering. “My darling husband, there is—is something I should have told you. But… I was so afraid, you see.” She looked down, and when she lifted her head, her lips trembled a little.
He tried to speak, but she put her fingers over his mouth, and said unsteadily, “No, beloved. You must hear my confession, now that I—I have begun it. You think you know your wanton, but—you have no notion of how very devious and sly I am. I waited, my Gideon, until we were safely wed, and—and I can only pray you will not demand an annulment.”
“Of all the idiotic—” he managed, frowning and pulling her hand away.
“Wait! Oh, wait! Youmusthear me! I shall never find the courage again!”
She looked so frightened, so shaken, and perhaps it was best that she tell him just how much she knew, so he waited.
“I have come to suspect,” she said in a scratchy little voice, “that… that my father schemed and plotted with Louis Derrydene to… to ruin Sir Mark.” Her eyes filled with tears as the terrible words were spoken. She cried, “Oh, Gideon! Can you forgive me for keeping silent? Do not hate me! Please! Do not—”
He swept her to him then, holding her close and dear against his heart, and murmuring between kisses, “Dear, silly, foolish little meadow sprite. How can I hate the lady I have loved all my life?”
Naomi sat up straight and blinked at him. “Youknew! Oh, Gideon! Why did you not tell me? How I have agonized over the shameful business!”
“And I also. I did not dare mention it for fear that ferocious pride of yours might again come between us.” He stroked her cheek, his eyes searching her face. “How did you know?”
“I think I began to wonder about it when you became so convinced that the little jewelled man was connected to Sir Mark’s troubles. I remembered how angry my father had been when I lost the silly thing. But I did not really believe it was true until we went to the Derrydene house so that you could search Sir Louis’ study. Something Lady Derrydene said that morning troubled me, but I could not for a while think what it was. And then I remembered. She said to her butler, ‘Tell Camber to drive the team around to the stables.’ Papa had told me he scarce knew Sir Louis and had never been to his house. If that was truth, how could Lady Derrydene know my groom’s name?” She sighed, her eyes very sad. “So many things came to mind, then. Little things Papa said to slight you, or your family. The way he kept teasing me about your—your reputation with women. How insistent he was that we terminate the betrothal. I realized that he hated Sir Mark, and had set out deliberately to ruin him. And I have been so—so wicked as to let you wed me, knowing that your father—an he knew it all—would straitly, and very justifiably, forbid our marriage! Truly… I am shameless!”
“Thank heaven,” said Gideon huskily, and kissed her again. So she did not know the worst of it—that Collington had subjected her to so terrible an ordeal, and that he might be involved in even more serious plotting. God willing, he would shield her from that knowledge for as long as he lived.
